


Wartime #1: A Bad Day

by Jonjo



Series: Wartime [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, Angst, Gen, Major Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonjo/pseuds/Jonjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bad day in the war torn lives of Stiles and Derek</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wartime #1: A Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Part #1 is pretty stark, read part #2 to make it better  
> Written for the fullmoon_ficlet weekly challenge #7 Prompt: Fire
> 
> Not mine except for the mistakes (unbetaed).

 

Market Day, if it could still be called that, only brought a few people in from the surrounding countryside these days. The war had made everyone cautious and they only came into town for essentials. Stiles was not sure why he still set up the stall each week. He made a little money, he supposed, but not enough to compensate for the danger. He had some ideas about duty and continuity but he didn’t study them beyond a determination to provide the service his family always had.

There were three groups in the area at the moment that he knew of, all fairly well armed and loyal to different commanders. It had started off as a political thing but now it was mostly about power and territory; warlords fighting over scraps of land, a cycle of gains and losses but mostly just death. No-one won, Stiles wondered if anyone would ever win, he was pretty sure he’d die before he found out.

Stiles was dressed as usual as an old man, bent over his staff. All the young men had fled or been dragged off to fight by one side or another. It wasn’t safe for him to appear in public as anything other than a disabled old codger. He’d been acting the part for so long now he sometimes forgot he was still fit and agile. He figured he’d survive only as long as he was useful but no good in a fight. He was reasonably certain he’d be no use as a soldier anyway; his panic attacks having returned with the war. He had his magic but it was way too risky to reveal that.

It was nearly dusk and Stiles had all but finished packing up when the stranger approached him. He was tall and had once been well built, Stiles thought, but now he looked gaunt and scrawny. He slapped a few coins on the counter and demanded to know what he could get. Stiles knelt down behind the stall to go through his crates and find the man a little meat and vegetables, enough for a meal.

He was still there when he heard the truck engines as they drove into the marketplace. The quiet of the evening was broken by the sounds of soldiers jumping from the tailgates, running and shouting. Stiles tried to stay hidden but was hauled out by his collar and thrown to the ground in front of the stall. He managed to hang on to his stick and used it to drag himself to his knees, wary of standing before he could judge the situation. He counted six trucks in the square, probably a dozen soldiers with each, some stood guard while the rest swarmed around the stalls taking anything they thought could be useful.

  
The man he’d been serving was being dragged towards the commander and then Stiles himself was pulled along behind him by another soldier. They were kicked to the ground and left a few feet in front of the officer. Stiles’ coat had been yanked from his body by the soldier’s actions and he lay on the ground revealed as a young man.

  
The commander wrenched his stick from his hands and spat in his face. He looked down at them both, considering for a moment before turning and walking over to one of the guards. The guard looked barely sixteen and his hands shook as he raised his gun to carry out his commander’s order to kill them. Seeing the lad’s hesitation he turned back to the men on the ground. He scoffed at Stiles when he saw his lips moving, telling him it was too late to pray. He shot the stranger and then leaned into the side of the young guard aiming at Stiles and shouted in his ear.

  
“ **Fire**!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Part #2 makes everything better :D


End file.
